Snakebite
by enRAGEd
Summary: Requested by Shakahnna. Before he was found by Alpha Team member Jill Valentine, Richard Aiken had an encounter with a certain, freakishly large and scaly resident of the Arklay Mansion. This is that encounter. One-shot Drabble.


**Resident Evil: Snakebite**

Richard wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, the material of his fingerless glove coming away glistering with sweat. He took the stairs up to the attic tentatively, the grip of his automatic shotgun clasped tightly in his right hand. He braced the barrel against his forearm to that he could bring the bulky weapon to bear one-handed, using the other to push the door. It creaked open on rusted hinges, and a draft blew in behind him, carrying hot, musty air into the cooler reaches of the loft.

Thick clumps of cobwebs and dust created wispy stalactites that clung to the rafters, wavering in the breeze he had introduced. It was dark and the smell of disuse was thick in the air, making his sinuses tingle. He moved in, taking his firearm in both hands and letting it lead him like a dog before a blind man. If he even sensed danger, it'd bark loud enough to wake the dead, and bite a whole lot worse.

The place looked deserted, but there were footprints in the thick skein of grey covering the ancient boards, ones that had been made relatively recently. He traced the trail, his boots thumping heavily on the wood. He could make out old shelves stacked with junk, empty crates piled in corners, and more thick webs adhering to everything, in spite of the pervading gloom cloaking everything he looked at. This place had been claimed by spiders, and no one other than him and his quarry had been impetuous enough to disturb them.

He found the hapless maker of the footprints lying dead in the far reaches of the room, face down in the grime, his right hand balled tightly around something. At this point, Richard had endured enough nasty surprises, so he slipped his sidearm free from its holster, letting the shotgun rest in the crook of his arm, and shot the body through the back of the head. He didn't want to take any risks, considering that dead people had a tendency not to stay that way in the Arklay mansion. Then, he knelt down and pried the item out of the rigor-stricken fingers, breaking several in the process.

"Thanks, pal," he said, patting the guy on the arm as he pocketed what turned out to be a key, "sorry about the head. Can't be too careful."

He was about to stand up when the body jerked away from him, and he let out a yelp, flailing as he fell backwards onto his rear end. He brought his firearm around, aiming it into the darkness of the loft's deepest recesses. There was a rumbling, gurgling sound, and then a hiss rolled out from the shadows. Moments later, an immense head, easily the size of a small car, emerged into view. The shape of the skull, the green scales covering its cranium, and the tongue flicking from its mouth told him exactly what he was looking at - a giant snake.

He scrambled to his feet and darted away as the creature slithered out from where it had been hiding. It was so long that it took it a full minute to emerge completely, and so thick that he could hardly see the bulge from the morsel it had consumed mere moments before. It reared up, hissing threateningly, its mouth yawning wide to reveal its saliva-slick innards. Two fangs, the length of a human femur and wickedly sharp, protruded from the roof of its maw, and then it lunged for him, snapping its jaws closed with ferocious speed.

Crying out, he crashed into the dirt, rolling over as the beast thundered past him, the immense muscles in its stomach constricting and expanding, rolling back and forth rapidly as it coiled around. He looked back and saw its tail circling behind him, and realised that he was trapped. It rose again, and he levelled the shotgun at it, blasting it full in the face. It wavered, recoiling as though stung, but it didn't seem much more fazed than if it had been hit by an insect. That definitely wasn't what he wanted to see.

He cursed and turned on his heel, sprinting towards the mass of scaly, scarred snake body that was pinning him in the centre of the room as it crashed down again. He didn't look back - either it was too far away to catch him, or too close for him to get away, and seeing it wouldn't change that. As it was, it didn't manage to get its jaws around him like he feared it might, and he vaulted its muscular mass like a low wall. It bucked, as though protesting the fact that he had touched it, and then it started to move. He spun to level his weapon at the monster's head, only for its tail to swing around and hammer him hard in the chest.

The impact knocked the wind out of him and threw him backwards into a shelving unit, which collapsed under his weight. Old boxes and bottles of foul-smelling liquid crashed down around him, but he pushed himself back to his feet, ignoring everything save the snake. He couldn't really afford to be distracted right now.

It yawned again, diving for him with fangs poised to maim. He hurled himself out of the way and into a roll as it collided with the wall, obliterating what remained of the shelf he had struck. It tossed its head back and forth, disoriented, and when it brought its face back around to glare at him, he gave it an eyeful of buckshot. It reared back, hissing, snapping its jaws, probably making threats against his family in its own language. He responded by making a break for the door.

Its tail slammed down in front of him, as though it knew he were trying to escape. He'd heard a long time ago that snakes could live on one big meal for months, slowly digesting it, often alive. He'd already seen it eat one man-size meal; he wondered how many more it would need before it had gotten its fill. Frankly, he didn't want to find out if he'd be the morsel to satisfy it.

He moved away from the door, keeping a distance between himself and the colossal beast's head, which was watching him with narrowed eyes. Its tongue flicked out from its lips, and he knew it was tasting him on the air, and that his scent was probably only serving to excite its appetite. He tried to convince it to go with the vegetarian option of leaving him the hell alone by sending another hail of shot in its direction, but it simply shrugged the blast off and surged towards him again. It seemed like a dedicated carnivore.

Unfortunately, he didn't have any ordnance - no grenades, no demolitions charges, not even a matchbook - and the creature's hide seemed impervious, even to the shotgun's hefty gauge.

He backed away from it, and then he struck the wall, and realised that he had got himself trapped in a corner. It seemed to sense his predicament, and reared up triumphantly, body held tight to pounce. It lunged for him, mouth wide open, and he fired blindly at the gaping hole that was the entrance to its stomach. To his surprise, it recoiled in genuine pain, rather than simply mild annoyance. It let out a noise that he'd never heard of a snake making before, a kind of agonised screech, and it backed away, lowering its head, watching him.

He grinned, glad that he was finally making some kind of impact, and kept his gun trained on it. He moved along the wall, keeping the wood to his back so that he could maintain eye contact with the towering giant until he reached the door. As long as it knew it would get more of the same next time it attacked, it wouldn't try anything. Hopefully, he could keep it at bay until he was able to reach the exit.

He was halfway home when his boot caught an empty paint can lying discarded at the edge of the attic, and he glanced down instinctively, before realising his mistake. His gaze snapped back up, just in time to see the Yawn coming for him again. He brought the shotgun up, but this time he was too slow on the trigger. Its body curved, its head lunging at him side-on, and his blast peppered its boil-ridden hide instead. Its fangs sank through his shoulder, piercing the flesh and impaling him through the arm. It was beyond agony, so much so that the initial pain almost sent him into shock right there and then.

His head started to swim as his enfeebled arms dropped the shotgun, and then he was lifted into the air, his body borne aloft as the creature tilted its head back, ready to devour him whole. Spurred into action by the sudden lurching sensation of his slow descent into its stomach, he reached for the combat knife holstered on his belt and pulled it free. Then, he plunged the steel blade into its gums, stabbing it hard in the soft, pink tissue that made up the inside of its maw, again and again and again.

Blood poured from the wounds he was inflicting, and the snake shook its head, hissing with irritation. The jerky movement threw him out of its mouth, its fangs sliding loose from where they were sheathed in his arm, and he hit the floor in a rapidly spreading pool of blood. He let out a strangled scream, putting his good hand to the holes through his shoulder, and then looked up to see the monster glaring down at him. He rolled to the side, letting it slam down where he had been lying a moment before, and scrambled across the floor on his knees and one arm, clawing for his shotgun.

He picked the weapon up as best he could, bracing the stock against his stomach and, knowing that this was going to hurt, fired off a shot into its eye as it curled around towards him. The orb exploded in a spray of watery ichor, and then the snake let out a shriek, surging past him in a blur of scales and hideous blotches. It retreated into the depths of the attic once more, leaving him to pick up the pieces.

He sucked in deep breaths as the kick of the firearm left him winded and gasping. He'd probably bruised a couple of ribs, maybe even cracked one, with that stunt, but at least he'd survived the onslaught. Of course, that would mean nothing if the Yawn came back to finish him off before he recovered. He had to get out of that attic.

He held tight to his shotgun as he struggled back up to his feet, using the weapon like a crutch to support his weight as he staggered to the door. He fell against the frame, wedging his foot in the opening and pushing the exit open, before falling down the stairs and landing hard on the floor at their base. He let out a groan, his head swimming, the pair of gaping wounds in his arm throbbing and burning like an insect sting to the power of a hundred.

He forced himself up into a sitting position, bracing his back against the wall, and looked over at his blood-drenched arm. Beneath the remains of his shredded t-shirt sleeve, the flesh around his injuries was already turning dark, as though it were necrotic. He let out a gasp, throwing his head back, breathing heavily as he tried to blot out the pain. He started to swear, kicking out at the floor and the wall and anything in reach of his boot.

And that was when he heard a voice.

"Richard!" Jill Valentine called, securing her sidearm as she slid down beside him, assessing his condition quickly, "what the hell happened?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he grinned, swallowing heavily as he tried the glib approach.

"Trust me, tonight I think I'd believe anything," she insisted, checking over his wounded arm, before sliding herself neatly under his good limb and dragging him back to his feet.

"How about a giant snake?"

She was silent for a moment as she half-carried, half-led him to the door she had entered through, and then she turned to look at him out of the corner of her eye, a grim smirk matching his own appearing on her lips. "Maybe your head that needs some medical attention too."


End file.
